10.15 p.m.
‘Excuse me.’ I knock on the camper van window with rapid knuckles. The window rolls down, slowly and jerkily.
‘You’re not going to give me a hard time, are you?’ The man has sad blue eyes and deep worry lines cast in grey skin. I’d guess him to be in his early thirties. ‘Trust me, it’s not the day for it. You walked out in front of me.’
He looks so much like Tom.
‘Olly – Oliver Kinnock?’
The man flinches. ‘Who wants to know?’
I hold up my card on its woven string. ‘Kate Noble. From Child Services.’
Olly pulls the gearstick into reverse. ‘Never heard of him.’
‘Wait, please.’ I grab the van by the open window, some stupid instinct telling me I could stop it moving just by holding on. ‘If you are Mr Kinnock, I’m here to help you. I know the truth. About Lizzie.’
Olly’s hand lingers on the gearstick.
‘Look – can you show me some ID?’ I ask. ‘And then I can help you, honestly I can.’
‘Fine.’ Olly rummages in the glove box, then flashes a driving licence showing a healthier, tanned man with glowing blond hair and bright white teeth.
Oliver James Kinnock.
‘Listen,’ I say. ‘I know about Lizzie. I need to talk to you. But I can’t do it here—’
Olly opens the van door and jumps out. ‘I’m not wasting any more time. I need to get to Tom.’
‘He’s not here.’
‘Yes he is. Lizzie’s mother told me.’
‘Lizzie just left with Tom,’ I say. ‘The police are trying to locate her. They know everything. What she’s been doing. The medicine.’
Olly grabs the car door for support. ‘When did she take him?’
‘Within the last half an hour. But …’ I look around the car park. ‘Technically, we should discuss this in private—’
‘She’s got my son, okay?’
‘We think she took him on a bus.’
‘Get in,’ says Olly.
‘I really shouldn’t—’
‘Oh Jesus. Just get in, would you? Lizzie will be on her way to the train station.’
‘How do you know?’ I ask.
‘Because she’s trying to escape and a train is faster than a police car. She’s not stupid.’
No. Lizzie is very, very clever.